


Derek is Cryptic Wolf

by Cinder7storm4



Series: How can I trust you? [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Uses His Words, Derek Uses His Words, Gen, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stilinski Family Feels, a touch of angst, less silence here, pre-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 23:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinder7storm4/pseuds/Cinder7storm4
Summary: The Sheriff find out about the pack... kind of.





	Derek is Cryptic Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> As per my recent streak, my thesis is lacking in word count, but my fanfic isn't. 
> 
> I do not own Teen Wolf.

After their confrontation, their conversation from that morning, John didn’t know how to feel but he could see Stiles’ exhaustion plain as day. So, he held his son close and let him drift off to sleep. The moment he was sure that Stiles was actually asleep John went to the kitchen, he picked up the photo and the broken frame and cleared it from view. He tucked the photo into an album in the living room and after pausing to look at Stiles again before heading upstairs to grab the first aid supplies. He wanted another look at Stiles’ injuries after his son woke up. 

John knew he wasn’t fully processing what had happened so much as he was putting Stiles first in his mind, but at the moment he didn’t care if he ever did anything else except keep Stiles alive and happy. 

Stiles on the other hand found sleep hard to come by, but he knew how to fake it well. He felt rather than saw his dad leave the room and head upstairs, so Stiles smoothly grabbed his phone from where it had been tossed the night before. It lit up with messages, but before he could read any of them it died. Cursing his luck under his breath, Stiles tried to figure out another way he could contact Derek. 

The wolfsbane, that was the only excuse Stiles could come up with for how his dad was acting. A contact high, exposure to the same drug might produce different effects on humans. Oh, his dad was being genuine, just like the hallucination had been, but it wasn’t right. Stiles wasn’t used to being cared for, he was supposed to help take care of his dad not add to his problems. And there was still so much he couldn’t explain even if his dad wasn’t acting out of some sort of drug induced guilt.

Unfortunately, the choice to not explain the supernatural to his dad was taken out of his hands that moment and Stiles didn’t even know it. 

John walked into Stiles’ room next, setting down the first aid supplies, deciding to wash the sheets and maybe set things to rights. What he didn’t expect upon entering the room was to find Derek Hale holding Stiles’ pillow, dotted with blood. The man froze taking in the Sheriff, who was unarmed but certainly still a threat. 

“You have five seconds to explain yourself, Hale before…”

“I was checking up on Stiles, is he hurt?” Derek gestured the blood spots. 

“Why would you be…” John trailed off, he knew it, he knew Stiles knew Derek better than he’d let on. Honestly, the motley crew of characters that had started to crop up around his son worried him a bit. 

“Isaac, Erica, and Boyd crashed at my place last night and they were out of,” Derek replied to the unasked question, “They said they’d been at Lydia Martin’s and the punch was…”  
“Spiked,” John finished for him wearily, “with something pretty hard-core too. Are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine, but they were concerned about Stiles. Erica smelled his distress when he left…” Derek trailed off realizing what he’d said.

“Smelled his distress? Are you high, Hale?” John growled at the younger man who stepped back deferentially, “You know what, I don’t care. All I care about right now is my son who just so happens to start getting hurt more frequently when you and your gang of teenagers start making a ruckus in town.” 

“With all due respect Sheriff, I can’t. No, I won’t just abandon Stiles.”

“Abandon him? He’s not your friend, he’s certainly not your boyfriend, and I will not have him in danger!”

“He’ll be in danger regardless, Sheriff.”

“Is that a threat?” John crossed the room to stand in Derek’s space, physically crowding him. 

Derek’s eyes flicked toward the door where a moment later, Stiles appeared, “Dad! What the hell are you doing?” Any residual sleepiness vanished from Stiles’ body as he rushed to push himself between his dad and the resident Alpha of Beacon Hills. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Derek, but hey, the guy had claws and flashy eyes and his dad didn’t know that. Crowding an Alpha could very well be seen as a challenge even if the challenger was human. 

“Stiles!” John tried to pull his son behind him but Stiles stood firm.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles’ voice wasn’t raised but it demanded a response nonetheless. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Derek replied, face expressionless.

“So, you snuck into my room and squared up with my dad?” 

“His scent was covered in yours, and I wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else because I could smell blood, Stiles,” Derek replied, tone slightly anxious. 

Stiles made frustrated shushing actions with his hands that obviously did not impress Derek, or John for that matter, the latter almost wanted to laugh at his son’s antics. 

“He’s already heard me talk about Erica’s catching your scent last night and we might as well do this now. I brought you something to help flush the residual wolfsbane from your system, it affects you differently from the rest of the pack.”

“Stiles, what the hell is he talking about?” 

Stiles was angry though. Derek could feel it fill up the room. The bedroom quickly stank of grief, anger, and anxiety, so he was prepared when Stiles stepped to him, “Get out. Before you do anymore damage.”

“He has a right to know.”

“No…”

“If you were my kid…”

“Well, thank god I’m not, because…”

“Whatever you’re going to say you’ll regret so just stop, Stiles,” Derek growled, his anxiety for his packmate grating on him. He could smell some wolfsbane still in Stiles’ system and he wanted the human to feel better. He wanted to give him any peace of mind that he could and if that meant looping in the Sheriff and protecting John then he was willing to do it. 

“Don’t you even try that with me, Sourwolf!”

John had had enough of the back and forth, and let loose with a loud whistle that made Derek wince slightly. It caught both of their attentions, “Whatever it is, I want to know.”

“Dad,” Stiles’ voice cracked, “Dad, it’s fine. You don’t need to…”

The room was overtaken with the scent of Stiles’ fierce protectiveness and love, with an undercurrent of anxiety. When it became clear that John was serious Stiles turned to Derek, “Derek, look, I’m not even pack, how can you want to bring in someone else…” but Derek cut him off, with a growl.

“Who the hell told you that, Stiles? You’re pack just as much as Erica or Isaac.”

Stiles seemed genuinely confused, “But Scott said…” 

Derek rolled his eyes, wondering why teenagers made up his pack, “Scott’s being an idiot. Humans can be pack. You are pack. End of discussion,” he cleared his throat and turned to look at the Sheriff with a look of exasperation and a pinch of fondness, “Which means, your dad is too, by default.” 

“I’m still utterly confused,” John said, trying to piece together a story from the conversation he’d just heard, “Is ‘pack’ some kind of gang or cult, Stiles?”

Stiles let out a laugh, a short but genuine one at his dad’s question. He looked at Derek, elbowing the gruff man, “Come on, that not inaccurate.”

“Stiles,” Derek huffed, fighting a twitch of his lips at the teen’s words. 

“Right, explanation time then?” Stiles, pulled into himself a bit, still feeling out of it and a bit uncomfortable what with all of the truths he’d told his dad just an hour ago. 

“Before that,” Derek shook the pillow in Stiles’ direction, “Are you alright?” pointing at the blood stains. 

Stiles winced internally, “Yeah, Sourwolf. I’m fine.”

“I don’t understand why you lie when I can sense it’s a lie,” Derek glared at Stiles who suddenly found the carpet extremely interesting, “Alright, let’s go, talk.”

“You know, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say ever,” commented Stiles as the teen walked toward the stairs, followed by his Alpha and his still flummoxed father.


End file.
